You’re Mine by Penny Brooks novel Chapter 134

Chapter 134
Harper
Easton and Dad return from the patio and Easton looks like he's seen a ghost.

Or an entire colony or paranormal creatures.

He's pale and sweaty and I feel terrible for him.

I can't believe Dad hauled him outside.

Well, I can, but I can't imagine what he said to him.

Part of me wants to ask Easton when we get a minute alone, and part of me would rather never know to save myself the embarrassment.

“Are you all right?"

I whisper the moment he's at my side.

"No."

He wipes his forehead.

"I'll never recover from that conversation.

Ever."

I glance at my dad who's now standing next to my mom as she adds dressing to the salad.

The two of them smiling at each other, like they just checked the final item off their list.

"Was it that bad?"

“Let's put it this way ..."

He glances toward the oven.

“If there are buns in there, baking, don't serve me one."

He adjusts his shirt and I see the sweat marks under his arms.

"In fact, I don't know if I'll ever eat another bun again."

Oh God.

It was THAT bad.

"I'm going to go add ice to the water glasses,"

I declare, and quickly fill a large bowl with cubes and carry it into the dining room, Easton on my heels.

When I get us out of ear range, I say softly, "What did he say to you?"

He holds onto the back of a chair.

"Oh, he covered it all—birth control, pregnancy, not being allowed in your room or touching you under his roof, you going to college, dropping out of college because of me."

He pauses.

"I think I've covered most of it."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

He shakes his head.

"That makes two of us."

I drop the ice into the glasses and move over to him.

He immediately takes a step back.

And then another.

“Easton?"

"I don't want him to think anything is happening in here."

"Seriously?"

I place the bowl on the table.

"It's like that?* He nods.

"You weren't out there ...

you have no idea."

"Ugh."

I want to kill my father, but I can't.

"Graduation can't come fast enough."

Except ...

do I really mean that?

Easton will be off to college.

I will be, too.

What if those places aren't anywhere near each other?

“Harper, the lasagna is done, can you grab it from the oven?"

my mother calls from the kitchen.

It's like she stopped hearing the clink of ice being put in the glasses and no longer wants us alone together.

This is already getting old.

"Be right back,"

I tell Easton and I hurry into the kitchen, grabbing the mitts before I reach into the oven.

Dad is mysteriously gone, and Mom is cutting and plating the garlic bread.

“Mom?"

She glances up, the knife still in her hand.

“Mmm—hmm?"

I don't know how to say this, but I need to say something.

“Easton has gotten the wrath from Dad.

Can we...

I don't know ...

make a promise to move on and never mention"—I nod toward the living room where the Christmas tree sits —"that again?"

She sets the knife down, the noise making a clank against the counter.

"Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate?"

She puts her hands on her hips.

"You just got off thin ice, young lady.

You have your phone back.

I'm not breathing down your neck every time you leave this house.

Don't push it, you hear me?"

I take that back, I don’t care where we end up, graduation needs to happen right now.

“Mmm-—hmm,’ I answer, giving her a taste of her own verbal medicine.